


Trapped in the File Cabinet

by nonnymouse



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Betrayal, Coercion, Kent "Parse" Parson/Bad Bob Zimmermann (Past), Kent "Parse" Parson/Jack Zimmermann (Past) - Freeform, M/M, Shame, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-05-30 23:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15107297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonnymouse/pseuds/nonnymouse
Summary: Kent signs on the dotted line when the Aces' head coach and head of PR present him with a plan to help keep him from being outed. Kent really should've read the contract first.





	Trapped in the File Cabinet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [satyr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/satyr/gifts).



Kent had been expecting this since the draft. His best friend had overdosed, and even if the drugs were prescription, overdoses meant bad PR. The expectation of a meeting where they pried into whether Kent also did drugs didn't make it any easier to walk into the room where the head coach and head of PR were waiting. He'd put on a tie with an actual button-down shirt and dress pants, deciding it made him look slightly less like an eighteen-year-old kid and more like an actual professional.

When he walked into the office, Mr. Pierce was seated at his desk. It was one of the cleanest desks Kent had ever seen, with not much on it aside from a sleek computer monitor and a conference phone. A slim manila folder lay in the center, ominously. Coach Mulligan leaned against one of the many file cabinets. Apparently the Aces were not a paperless organization.

"Coach Mulligan, Mr. Pierce," Kent greeted them, shaking each of their hands before sitting. He hoped the desk hid the way he rubbed his palms against his pants from their view. He shouldn't have worn these dress pants; they were wool and he was sweating.

"Mr. Parson, we received a phone call from Mr. Zimmermann yesterday evening. He had some concerns about you that he thought the Aces should be aware of."

Kent breathed out, hoping it didn't show that he felt like he'd taken a high stick to the stomach. Mr. Zimms couldn't think he was responsible for the overdose, could he? He knew Kent better than that.

Coach Mulligan spoke next. "My old teammate called, friend to friend, to let me know that you're a homosexual who seduced him and then led his son to ruin. Obviously, you can't be trusted not to cause trouble, so we have to ensure that you aren't a problem now."

Mr. Pierce flipped the manila folder open and pushed it forward. Kent busied himself with the papers, grateful for the chance to look down and hide the tears in his eyes. Mr. Zimms wouldn't do that to him. He was always telling Kent what a good boy he was, his beautiful boy. He loved Kent. Kent couldn't even read the words on the page, his eyes were so foggy. Had Mr. Zimms stopped loving him because of what happened to Zimms?

"Mr. Zimms was worried about you," Mr. Pierce said, looking heavily at Coach Mulligan. "He felt he needed to warn us to protect you. As you'll see, we've written out a plan to help keep you from being outed, with further preparations for the situation in which you are outed. If you'll initial each page and then sign the last one, we'll get the ball rolling." Mr. Pierce sounded kind, and that was enough to help Kent function well enough to put a sloppy KP in each bottom-left corner. His signature was shaky, but recognizably his.

When he was done, Mr. Pierce closed the folder and stood to file it. Coach Mulligan moved out of his way, toward Kent.

"On the desk, rookie," he ordered.

Kent half stood, but the order made no sense and he paused, indecisive. Did the coach want him to climb on the desk?

"I swear they get dumber every year," he muttered, slamming one hand into Kent's back and bending him over the desk.

He'd been surprised, but the pain of the solid-wood edge of the desk hitting against his ribs made Kent thrash automatically. He was younger than the coach, made a good showing, but he'd already lost leverage and it was easy to keep him pinned, especially when Mr. Pierce grabbed his arms.

"Did you not read the plan?" Coach Mulligan sounded pissed. "You boys can't do anything without your agents to tell you your ass from your elbow. Pierce and I are gonna make sure to keep you good and fucked out so you don't target anyone else. We'll start with at least once a day, trading off."

"No," Kent protested, and Coach Mulligan smacked his ass with a heavy hand.

"You agreed to this already. Now, pants down."

Kent fought again, but it still wasn't enough. He could push his weight up, hold himself with his abs, and kick back, but he couldn't aim that way, and Mr. Pierce dug his fingernails into Kent's arms. That was the worst bit, more so even than the feeling of Coach Mulligan's hands beneath him, undoing his belt and pulling his pants down around his ankles, which made it that much harder to kick. The bite of Mr. Pierce's nails was too familiar, reminding Kent how good it felt when Mr. Zimms dug his fingernails into Kent's hips when he fucked him, how that little bit of pain making his cock in Kent's ass feel even better.

"Please, Mr. Pierce," he begged, looking up at him. Mr. Pierce wore thick spectacles that made his brown eyes appear large and soft. He seemed almost startled by Kent's resistance.

"Kent, this is for your own good. An oversexed young man like yourself can't resist the temptations of the world. Coach Mulligan and I are going to make sure you're too satisfied to get tangled up with the wrong element. This is a big sacrifice for us. They say a hole's a hole, and you're very pretty, but it is hard to forget that you're a man. You should thank us for keeping you safe. Without our efforts to protect you, everyone would know that you're gay."

"I—I don't—"

"Now, I'm really quite disappointed in you, Mr. Parson. You seemed like a sensible young man during your interviews. This conduct does not bode well for your tenure with the Aces."

It had all been instinct. He'd been attacked and threatened. But Mr. Pierce was right, wasn't he? They'd told Kent what they were going to do. He was the one who'd been too busy crying to read the papers. Coach had been upset he wasn't following orders, like rookies were supposed to. Kent was making trouble, and he hadn't even played in a game yet. He might never play in the NHL, at this rate. Especially when the head coach _and_ head of PR were trying to do him a special favor and he was trying to hurt them in return. But now that he was thinking, maybe he could convince them they didn't need to do this.

"Thank you, Mr. Pierce. I'm sorry. I was surprised. But honestly, I'm not going to cause any trouble."

"Damn right, you aren't," said Coach Mulligan, his fingers spearing into Kent's asshole with a too thin coating of cold lube. His coach didn't know how to do prep, maybe his wife wasn't into anal, and the burn was too much when Kent wasn't aroused.

"More," he said, starting to explain.

"Already?" Coach Mulligan forced another finger in.

"No, no, no," Kent wailed, panting to make the pain go away. "More lube, please, please."

"So you can ask nicely, boy," he said as he squirted cold lube right onto Kent's asshole. The cold made him clench tight, but he tried to relax as Coach Mulligan pushed it in with clumsy fingers. He had to let this happen. He couldn't refuse and ruin his life because he'd been too dumb to read the contract first.

He turned his face so that his cheek rested against the desk as Coach Mulligan pushed in, inch by inch. He kept breathing, trying to will away the situation and just feel. If he ignored that this was happening in an Aces office, with his coach who though he was some sort of floozy, that Mr. Pierce was watching, it didn't feel that bad. Coach Mulligan's cock was bigger than Zimms but smaller than Mr. Zimms, and he was pressing along Kent's prostate. He could feel the coach's jeans on his legs, only half shoved off. If Kent closed his eyes, this was an eager, forbidden fuck, Kent barely prepped because they had to hurry or they'd get caught. An intern with coffee could walk in at any minute, or one of his big, gruff teammates.

"Hard already," Coach Mulligan said behind him. "Knew you needed this."

It was enough to make Kent push against Mr. Pierce's hold, because he couldn't just let them think he wanted it even if he had to take it.

"I'm not enough for you, eh? Pierce, why don't you take the other hole?"

That stilled Kent. Mr. Pierce's hands pulled away from his arms, and Kent followed the movement up to watch Mr. Pierce roll up his cuffs before opening his pants and pulling out his cock.

Unlike Coach Mulligan, he started with a bit of romancing. A hand, stroking Kent's face and tilting it up as Coach Mulligan rammed him into the desk. He whimpered, and Mr. Pierce wiped a thumb under his eye, chasing away a few tears.

"Are you going to be good for me, Mr. Parson?"

Kent nodded, and earned himself a practiced smile. "There's the nice boy I interviewed."

"Nice boy?" Coach Mulligan scoffed. "He's a nice piece of ass. Get your cock in him already so we can be done with this. He's getting off on getting plugged like a cheap whore; you don't need to wine and dine him first." He paused and laughed a little. "We really are paying him enough, aren't we?" He thrust harder next time, faster, and Kent's cock twitched, making it impossible to hide how good it felt.

He wanted to hide his face against the desk again, but Mr. Pierce was still holding it up and smiling down on him. He knelt down so that he could whisper in Kent's ear, gently brushing his hair out of the way. "That's a cute look," he said. "The blush makes you look young and innocent. Now, I know you do have some practice, so even though Mulligan is riding you hard, I do not want to feel any teeth. I'd hate for Mulligan to have to punish you. Do you understand?"

Kent nodded, crying out "Yes!" when Coach Mulligan gripped him by the shoulders to pull him back harder against his cock. Coach Mulligan's fingers were gripping hard enough to leave bruises, and Kent sure hoped Mr. Pierce thought Kent was answering his question.

"Now, open up, Mr. Parson," Mr. Pierce said before dropping his hand. Kent opened his mouth.

He acted methodically. First, Mr. Pierce wound Kent's tie around his hand. Then, he tugged on it, pulling Kent onto his cock. It was thankfully the shortest one he'd ever sucked, and tasted clean, only the slightest hint of natural musk. Mr. Pierce's pace was gentle in comparison to Coach Mulligan's, which actually made things more difficult, since Kent was being assaulted by two rhythms at once. At least Mr. Pierce tugging on his tie helped him keep time so that he didn't choke when Mr. Pierce pushed his cock down Kent's throat.

"Mmm," he said, petting Kent's hair with his free hand. "You do have practice with this."

Kent curled his hands around the edge of the desk, holding on. One cock in his mouth and one in his ass was more than he'd ever had, and it was awful that it felt so good to be full and used. He loved taking Zimms' cock, and Mr. Zimms', and physically this felt so similar and his body was used to sex being a pleasure. His prostate sent a zing of delight all the way down to his toes every time Coach Mulligan hit it. And he'd always liked the feel of a cock weighing down his tongue and thrusting deep into his throat; he still felt pride that he no longer gagged. Kent didn't know what was wrong with him, that some part of him felt proud that he'd learned the skills to be good for them.

There was also something about the things they said. Mr. Pierce being sweet with him was easier to accept, but some dark part of him liked the things Coach Mulligan said, too. It was hard to deny the perversity of how hard he was from being forced. Kent was out of control.

This time Mr. Pierce pulled on the tie longer, not letting Kent up, and Kent knew what that meant, that finally one of them was coming, and the relief combined with the feeling of Coach Mulligan still fucking his ass to make him come, spattering across the desk at the same time Mr. Pierce's come flooded his throat.

Kent spat, and Mr. Pierce tsked. "You just made a mess of your own face," he reprimanded Kent.

"See, Pierce? He came from being fucked alone. I told you we wouldn't have to touch his dick."

"You've always been able to call the right play."

Mr. Pierce reached into a drawer and pulled out a camera. He'd taken several shots before Kent's brain kicked online and he reacted.

He pushed himself up, but Coach Mulligan pushed him right back down with a hand to the back of his neck, and he didn't have the will to fight for real. Not with the lingering haze of coming, not with the taste of semen in his mouth, not with a cock still in his ass, making his cock and asshole both ache. Not with the feel of semen soaking into his nicest shirt.

"We have to properly record your progress for your file. We'll need to study the photos—and videos—of your debauchery to determine how to best keep you preoccupied and out of seedy clubs. There was a model release in the paperwork, don't worry. This is all part of the outlined procedures."

When Coach Mulligan came in his ass, and there was nothing for Kent to do but lie there as the come dripped down his thighs and Mr. Pierce took photos of his abused asshole. "Yes," he mused, "there's a lot to review here."

Kent wanted to lie there until he died, but the instant Mr. Pierce put the camera away, Coach Mulligan slapped his ass. "Pants up, kid. Get the fuck out of Pierce's office. We've got things to do, and you've made a mess."

Stumbling, Kent pulled his pants up, hoping his briefs would be enough to save them from stains. He fumbled with his belt, but decided half buckled was good enough if he didn't bother to retuck his shirt. If anyone noticed that, they would've probably already noticed the cum speckling his shirt and tie and chin.

"Can I use the bathroom?" he asked in a small voice. "Sir," he added, seeing Coach Mulligan's eyebrows come together.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Parson. We really are quite busy."

So Kent made his way out of the office, moving fast and looking down. He wished he'd worn his usual baseball cap.

His phone pinged. He had a new meeting tomorrow. Same time, same place.


End file.
